


Character Building Exercises

by LenaMania



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Flashbacks, Idiots in Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-05
Updated: 2013-11-05
Packaged: 2017-12-31 15:04:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1033099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LenaMania/pseuds/LenaMania
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur is perfectly normal, there is nothing wrong with him. Enter, Merlin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Character Building Exercises

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> This fic is living proof that I have not studied for tomorrow's exam.
> 
> I love how all the ideas for my fics come from happy things, and jokes I share with dreamsofdragons, but when I start writing, all the happy goes for a toss, and the angst rolls in.
> 
> So, fic number three. For dreamsofdragons because she is the Morgana to my Arthur, and that's that.
> 
>  
> 
> I hope you like it.

Arthur Pendragon likes normalcy. Don’t get him wrong, he’s not boring, he just likes his routine. He likes going for his 6 a.m. runs, he likes his toast almost burnt with strawberry jam masking the taste of pure carbon; hell, he even enjoys being stuck in the rush hour traffic for 17.2 minutes every morning as he drives from his flat to his office in the organised chaos that is Gloucester road.  
Of course, just because he likes it, doesn’t mean he’s necessarily allowed to carry on an uninterrupted life of normalcy. It has always been like that, and Arthur is certain that there is a law somewhere in the universe that states that for every normalcy loving person, there must be at least three people who were put on the planet to create chaos and disorder in his quiet, ordered, predictable world. Uther’s told him that the world seeks symmetry, that things exist because they need to complement…other things, and while ninety percent of the time,Uther might be a mad-man with a fetish for philosophy Arthur genuinely agrees with this Utherian model. He’s seen it in operation, after all. Every time he decides to spend his Sunday cooking scrambled eggs and reading something or the other- anything that isn’t work, his plans are wrecked by a knock at his door and it’s either Evil Sister (but not really) Morgana, standing there with hands on hips, a smirk plastered onto her face, ready to drag him out to socialise at some art show or another; or Drunk Shitface Gwaine, grinning away and flipping his hair over his shoulder as he blackmails Arthur into going to the new pub down So and So street, where they’re serving free So and So to all couples, gay or otherwise. It doesn’t matter that Arthur and him aren’t a couple, because with Gwaine, the lines between the truth and lies are blurred and virtually non-existent when alcohol is concerned.  
He’s tried to make them see sense- both his friend and his sister, but it never works.  
When Arthur complains to Morgana, and suggests she find someone else to tag along as she swoons at a Matisse, because he’d rather be at home alone, Morgana will look at him and raise an eyebrow, question his level of seriousness.  
“Oh Arthur.” She’ll say, almost pityingly. “You need to be like Matisse- don’t stick to the boring old palettes, experiment with new colours.” When Arthur will look at her, fully believing that she’s been spending too much time with Eccentric Uther, Morgana will just pat him on the shoulder and smile.  
“Think of it as a character building exercise.”  
And then Arthur will just stand there, staring absently at The Open Window at Collioure, feeling like an eight year old schoolboy who’s been given a poor report card.  
                                                                                                                            ***  
Morgana isn’t the only one who assigns him ‘Character Building Exercises’ (CBE, he thinks to himself). Leon from work tries to very tactfully coax him into coming to a football game. Arthur loves footie, so he says yes, but once the game’s over and their team’s won, the euphoria is replaced by discomfort. He’s surrounded by Leon’s friends- Percival, Lancelot and Gwen and while they’re all very nice people, Arthur’s guarded around them because he’s not used to the cheerful banter, or the immature jokes, and definitely not the shameless flirting. He talks to Gwen, and laughs at Leon’s jokes, even exchanges football trivia with Lancelot, but he doesn’t do it because he wants to, no he does it in the hope that it’ll build character, that maybe, just maybe, it’ll bring about some of that change he fears so much.  
Arthur spends 19.6 minutes in traffic on his way back, and all he can think of is Gwen inviting him to drinks the next weekend.  
He decides he’s going to try because maybe he needs the discomfort and the awkwardness, maybe he needs to socialise again.  
                                                                                                                            ***  
 _It hasn’t always been like this. Arthur knows what it’s like to not be normal. He’s known happiness, and adventure, and chaos and pure, unquestionable exhilaration. He won’t deny the more than occasional bike rides, the overnight camping trips, the realisation of love, and of longing and of its fulfilment. He remembers what it was like, being…happy isn’t the word for it, seeing as he’s happy now as well. Perhaps, complete? Whole? Intoxicated? Intoxicated, he decides._  
 _The first time he ventured out of his shell all those years ago, he was intoxicated. Vulnerable, but intoxicated and happy, and that was all that mattered._  
 _He met Merlin Emrys in Professor Keith’s class in his third semester at University. Merlin Emrys, the boy with the pencil tucked behind his year, the boy who wore ripped jeans and baggy band t-shirts and couldn’t stop tapping on his desk. More than that, he was Merlin Emrys, the boy who Arthur asked out the one night when they were both slogging away on a single computer, trying to come up with a convincing last minute presentation for a class neither of them liked but needed desperately to pass._  
 _“This is pointless. We’ve got no plan.” Arthur had said, staring at the clock display, trying not to panic at how little time they had left. “We can’t do this. We can’t make this up.”_  
 _“Hey!” Merlin had stared sternly at him, with those bright blue eyes of his. How they could still be bright after three hours of staring at a computer screen, heaven only knew._  
 _“We are getting this done, Pendragon. This presentation will happen and we will pass that grouch’s class.”_  
 _“You can’t be sure, what do you know, Merlin.” Arthur had sighed exasperatedly as he got to his feet. “I say we talk to him tomorrow and convince him to give us more time.”_  
 _Merlin had leaned back in his chair and stared up at Arthur. “Alright, here are some fun facts about Professor K- he doesn’t give extensions, he hates all his students as a rule, and he will definitely fail us if we try to establish contact.”_  
 _Arthur had opened his mouth to argue, but Merlin was having none of it. “No, Arthur. We’re finishing this sonofabitch and we’re presenting it tomorrow because God knows I’ve bullshitted my way through worse and if I fail at this, then well, I might as well admit I’ve lost my touch, and drop out of university.” He’d looked at Arthur, daring him to challenge his authority and walk out on him. Arthur wasn’t prepared to do that, so he’d gulped, sighed and nodded._  
 _“Good.” Merlin had said. “Now, what do we know about Combinatorial Game Theory…”_  
 _They’d come up with a passable presentation two hours later. Merlin had saved the presentation and turned to Arthur. ‘Hah, what did I tell you? Now, all we need to do is talk and click ‘next’ and say goodbye to old man Keith forever.” He’d spun around in his spinning chair for added effect._  
 _Arthur had to admit he was quite happy about it himself, so he allows himself a grin._  
 _“What?” Merlin had asked, looking up at him from his chair. When Arthur looked like he needed specifics, Merlin had elaborated. “You look like this is new to you.”_  
 _“It is.” Arthur had admitted. “I…erm… usually work more-well, methodically- with a plan and everything.”_  
 _“Ah. Must be boring.” Merlin had dismissed it with another spin of his chair._  
 _“It is not!” Arthur had defended himself, not that that’s going to achieve anything because Merlin had an answer for everything. The boy was like magic, he could find a way out of everything. He was good at making things up, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t intelligent. You’d have to be intelligent to be a scholarship student at Camelot University._  
 _“I’d love to prove you wrong.” Merlin had run a hand through his jet black hair as he turned off the system. The blue of the computer screen had cast an eerie shadow upon his cheekbones, and Merlin had looked like he’d dressed for Halloween. “- but it is 2 a.m. and I am starved and decaffeinated-”_  
 _Arthur had just been about to nod understandingly and reach for his books when he had realised that Merlin hadn’t completed his sentence._  
 _“- so I suggest we move to the café downstairs where there will be food and suitable lighting for me to share with you my theories of why being too organised is a bad thing.”_  
 _The offer had taken Arthur by surprise, and he almost said no. That no, he didn’t want to go to the café with Merlin and have him explain any of his theories and that no, he didn’t need good lighting because he could see just fine in the dim light of the computer lab , and no, he definitely did not need any more coffee in his system. He could turn Merlin down, and Merlin would understand because people understood when Arthur didn’t want to socialise. They judged him for it, but they let it be._  
 _He had said yes, because he didn’t want to turn Merlin down, and he didn’t want Merlin to judge him._  
 _So,okay maybe Arthur wasn’t the one to ask Merlin out that night… but he did definitely ask him out the next day, even if ‘asking out’ just meant grabbing a coffee together before class, and that too only because they both happened to be at the same place at the same time_.

                                                                                                                              ***  
Work is uneventful the next day, and Arthur spends most of his time in his office, sifting through file upon file of account statements, numbers and figures. Other people might call it drab, but to him it makes sense because numbers remain constant, and numbers don’t have feelings that you might unknowingly hurt.  
He looks up when the door to his office opens and in strides Uther Pendragon.  
“Arthur.” He settles into one of the chairs opposite his son’s and looks at him expectantly.  
It is Monday.  
It is the day the Uther Pendragon visits the office and looks over the weekly reports. Arthur’s used to it by now, so he pushes a pile of reports over to his father’s side. Uther spends fifteen minutes silently perusing them. Then he begins to multi-task, studying the figures as he makes conversation with his son.  
“How is everything with you?”  
“Fine.” Arthur stares at his own files.  
“You don’t come around to dinner anymore.”  
“I’ve been busy. I work late.”  
“Hmm.” Uther murmurs. Arthur goes back to his work until he realises that Uther’s looked up from his files and his scrutinising his son.  
“Is anything the matter, father?” Arthur’s eyes dart to the files. He’s checked them personally; there shouldn’t be anything wrong with them…  
“Arthur.” Uther begins, and Arthur raises an eyebrow in inquiry. “Are you alright?”  
“I’m fine, father.” Arthur shrugs dismissively. “I told you, I just work late-“  
Uther stops him with a shake of his head. “That’s not what I meant.”  
“Then I’m sorry, I don’t know what you mean, father.” Arthur responds. He’s afraid this is going to turn into another conversation on existentialism. Another Character Building Exercise.  
“You remember that conversation we had about symmetry in the universe?” Uther begins. Arthur nods in acknowledgment.  
“I told you that the universe operates in symmetry. That for every force, there is another conflicting force, and while these forces may not understand or know, they’re symbiotic and complementary.” He taps on the desk. “That applies to people, Arthur.” Uther stands up and paces the office. “I can’t help but feel you’re doing too much, more than you can handle, and you’re doing it alone, with no one to complement you.  
“I know I’ve had high expectations of you, Arthur. But I do care about you, and right now, I’m worried. You’re changing- keeping to yourself like this.”  
“You’ve no reason to be worried.” Arthur says by way of assurance. The fact that his father is worried about how he leads his life sets off an alarm bell in his head, but Arthur smothers that signal of self-doubt, and carries on. “I’m… going to the pub with friends this Saturday.” He says, almost too hastily. Uther doesn’t seem to notice though. He just smiles shortly.  
“Good. You should do that.” The father and son exchange a look. Then Uther clears his throat. “The files seem to be in order. Come to dinner some night, and we can discuss this at length.”  
Arthur doesn’t know what Uther is referring to, but he nods anyway.  
“Don’t be alone, Arthur.” Uther says one last time, and Arthur can hear the “like me” that’s implied.

He looks in the mirror that evening and sees the lines and the dark circles- all evidence that he works too late and too much. No wonder his father thinks he’s turning into a hermit of sorts.  
It’s not all his fault, though. Like his father says, there are complementary forces at work- he can’t have brought this about by himself.  
Arthur finds himself going for a run down the road.  
                                                                                                                    ***  
 _“Arthur, for fuck’s sake, will you slow down?” Merlin had huffed as he’d tried to catch up with Arthur who had been atleast ten metres ahead of him._  
 _“From where I come from, this is slow.” Arthur had shouted back._  
 _“Yeah, well- from where I come from, we call this ‘you’re being an arse and I refuse to accompany you if you’re going to run away from me anyway.’” Merlin had bumped into him as he caught up. “Prat.” He had muttered._  
 _“Oh, come on, Merlin.” Arthur had thrown an arm around the other man’s shoulder and held him in a headlock. “I’m not running away from you, I want you to run with me.”_  
 _“Well, it’s not working if you don’t realise that not everyone is the Greek God of ‘I Can Run Like The Wind’ like you. Make some concessions for us mortals, yeah?” They were walking now, with no space between them. Arthur had pretended to be offended by Merlin’s accusation, before he had grabbed the other man by the arm and turned him towards him._  
 _“I don’t make concessions for mere mortals.” He had breathed out as he ran his hand through dark hair. “But for you, I will.” He had narrowly avoided the jab in the ribs, but hadn’t missed the kiss that had followed._

 _“Why do you run so fast?” Merlin had asked later that night, as they’d sat curled up on the sofa in Arthur’s flat._  
 _“Hmm?” Arthur had asked absently, resting his head on Merlin’s shoulder._  
 _“The running. What are you running away from?”_  
 _“What makes you think I’m running away from something? I could be running toward something.”_  
 _“Okay.” Merlin had agreed.. “But I think you’re running away. Will you tell me why?”_  
 _Arthur had thought about it,really thought about it. Was he really that obvious? Or maybe it was just another of Merlin’s superpowers- the ability to see right through him._  
 _“Failure and expectations.” He had said. “I’m running away from both. I don’t want to fail, and I don’t want to let anyone down.”_  
 _“And you’re afraid you might.” Merlin had finished. Arthur had hmmed in response._  
 _“I’m running towards you, though.”_  
 _It was Merlin’s turn to look at Arthur quizzically. “Me?”_  
 _“You.” Arthur had confirmed. “Because you’re the best thing that’s happened to me, and I want to let you know I’m trying, and that I won’t let you down.” Merlin had gone limp against Arthur, and the latter had looked, afraid that he’d said too much._  
 _“Merlin, I’m-” Arthur had begun to apologise, to make amends, but then Merlin had wrapped his arms around him._  
 _“You idiot.” He had said. “I’m not expecting anything but you, from you, Arthur. You don’t have to prove anything to me.” They’d held each other’s gaze, and finally Arthur had nodded.He’d mumbled something into the crook of Merlin’s neck, and Merlin had smiled._  
 _“I love you too, you clotpole.”_  
 _Of all the conversations that they had had- from discussing Merlin’s father, and Arthur’s mother, both long gone, to discussing each other’s lives and aspirations, this one short conversation had meant more to Arthur than anything else he owned. This conversation had been his property, his and Merlin’s._  
                                                                                                                            ***  
Arthur returns from his run to find Gwaine glaring at his door.  
“What are you doing here?” He asks, as Gwaine turns to grin at him instead.  
“I’m a part time Jehovah’s Witness, decided to pay you a visit, mate.” Gwaine jokes as he steps aside to allow Arthur to unlock the door. Once indoors, Gwaine follows Arthur into the kitchen. “Do you want to go out tonight?”  
“Not really.” Arthur admits, filling a glass with water from the kitchen sink.  
“That’s not why I’m here anyway.” Gwaine helps himself to some crisps from the cupboard above the stove. “Had a more uh- pressing-matter to discuss.”  
Arthur doesn’t like the sound of that, but he turns to face Gwaine anyway. “Yes?”  
“You remember Cornelius from last week? The guy we ran into at that club on Albion street?”  
Arthur doesn’t remember anything other than long dark hair and an abundance of facial hair introducing itself as Cornelius. Gwaine takes his silence as an answer and continues.  
“Well, Cornelius asked me to give you this.” He slaps a piece of paper down on the countertop.  
Arthur stares at it blankly for a moment, before the gravity of the situation hits home. Another Character Building Exercise.  
“No.” he says flatly. “Just-no.”  
“Why not?” Gwaine counters. “He’s not bad-looking, and I think you’d like him. Besides, it’s not like you’re seeing anyone.”  
Arthur glares at the offending piece of paper. “I’m not interested. Not now, not ever.”  
“C’mon, mate. How long are you going to be like this? You’re going to need a lay some time.”  
Arthur picks up the piece of paper and shreds it to bits. “I think I’ve made my point Gwaine, let it go.”  
“There’s someone else, isn’t there?” Gwaine muses from opposite Arthur. “Someone you aren’t telling me about.”  
“There’s nobody.” Arthur answers, calmer than he actually feels. “And there won’t be anybody. Let it go, Gwaine.”  
Gwaine lets it go for the time being, but Arthur knows his friend’s worrying about him- you can tell, the way Gwaine hunches over as he leaves the flat. He can’t be angry at Gwaine for looking out for Arthur, for being a friend.  
He doesn’t want anybody, not if he can’t have him.  
You did have him. A voice chides. You had him and you let him go.  
Arthur blocks out the voice and concentrates on finding his way out of the kitchen.  
                                                                                                                                      ***  
He goes to visit Uther at dinner time the next day. Morgana is there as well, which is a surprising feat in itself because Morgana and Uther do not usually sit in the same room together, unless they absolutely have to.  
“Uther told me you were coming.” Morgana answers the question before he’s even asked it. “I had to see for myself.”  
Arthur takes his usual place on the table, the one that is to his father’s right. “Father. Morgana.”  
They eat in silence mostly. Every now and then Uther will ask a question about the company, or about mutual friends, and Arthur will answer before they lapse into silence again.  
Morgana for her part is perfectly content with staring at Arthur, as she spears a carrot with her fork. It’s nothing new, but it makes Arthur uncomfortable all the same.  
“Arthur.” She begins, and Arthur can’t help but think that he’s about to be lured into another Experiment in Character Building. Perhaps something about going to an auction or a beach resort or something similarly excruciating.  
Instead Morgana just hums thoughtfully and continues. “Gwen said you were going over to her house for drinks.”  
But of course Morgana knows Gwen, Morgana knows everybody.  
“I am.” Arthur confirms.  
“That sounds interesting. Maybe I’ll run into you, if Leon decides to ask me out by then.”  
“L-Leon?” Arthur asks, confused. Morgana and Leon, Leon – quiet and proper Leon, with his ironed suits and his calm and composed demeanour? Well, there’s a plot twist he wasn’t expecting.  
“What?” Morgana smirks. “You didn’t think Character Building Exercises were restricted to you?” And Arthur chokes.  
                                                                                                                                      ***  
The biggest Character Building Exercise of the week is Gwen’s little get-together. Arthur finds himself knocking on her fourth floor door, only ten minutes late. He’s considered cancelling, but if Morgana’s going to be there, then he wants to prove a point.  
“Arthur, you made it!” Gwen beams as she lets him into the tastefully decorated and complete with wooden flooring. Arthur smiles at her and lets her lead him to the living room where the drinks and the people are. “You know most of them- Lance, of course, and Leon and Morgana, and Gwaine and his mead.” She rattles off. There are a few others- Elena from Gwen’s office. The wild-haired blonde says a quick hello to Arthur, and then scurries away to speak to someone else, twice tripping over her own feet.  
“That’s Vivian, she’s from Lancelot’s clinic, and there’s Mithian- Morgana’s classmate from Uni.” Gwen points out people. “That’s everyone, I think. Oh wait- no, there is one more person. I think you’d like him.” For someone so small, Gwen manages to drag Arthur over to the other side of the room. “I left him here, but I bet he’s off socialising…” Arthur shifts nervously as Gwen surveys the room. He catches Morgana’s eye, and Morgana for once, does not smirk. Instead, she rises from her place next to Leon, and walks towards him.  
“You showed up. I’m proud.” Morgana whispers, nudging Arthur who pretends not to look too pleased with himself.  
“There!” Gwen exclaims. “He’s an environmental lawyer, and I bet corporates like you could use someone like him for your CSR mumbo jumbo. He’s the best, and he’s just moved here from America- you had better scoop him up before Cenred or someone else does.”  
Arthur follows Gwen’s gaze to where Lancelot stands, talking to a man.  
That’s when his world stops.  
Because why the hell is Merlin Emrys standing in Gwen’s London kitchen when he should be halfway across the globe, practicing in front of the Lincoln Memorial, or wherever?  
Merlin doesn’t notice him at first, which allows Arthur to stare at him a little longer. He’s different, but the same. Same face, same cheekbones- longer hair, definitely longer, and the ripped jeans are out of the picture. He’s not as skinny anymore either. It’s been ten years since University, but he’s still the same Merlin, and Arthur really, really wishes that he wasn’t.  
Merlin chooses just that moment to look up and right at Arthur, and Arthur’s breath catches because he really is the same Merlin. His Merlin, he refrains from saying, because that doesn’t ring true anymore. They stay that way, eyes locked into each other’s. Gwen’s probably tugging at him, but Arthur doesn’t realise it.  
Two things happen in quick succession. Merlin takes a step forward, mouth curling into something that could be a smile, and Arthur takes three steps back. He hears Morgana say his name, but it doesn’t register for the moment.  
He knows he’s being an idiot, not to mention incredibly childish, but he does it anyway. He does the one thing he’s best at doing where Merlin is concerned.  
He runs away from Merlin and damn the consequences.  
                                                                                                                                                    ***  
 _Merlin hadn’t told Arthur- of course not. But Arthur had found out anyway, thanks to the countless rumours in his class. It had been their last semester, and everyone had been talking about what was next, and where they were going to go._  
 _“Law School in Washington!” Arthur had overheard someone say. It had been Gili from Pol Sci. “But he probably won’t go.”_  
 _“I thought it was his dream or something.” Another student had chimed in._  
 _“You know Merlin, his dreams are always changing.” That had made Arthur stop and listen, except it seemed like the students had finished speaking._  
 _He’d asked Merlin the next day._  
 _“You’re going to Washington?” Merlin had looked surprised that Arthur knew, and had stared at him for a bit before speaking._  
 _“I’m not going.” He’d said and Arthur had asked why, because Merlin had always wanted to go, he’d talked about it, about how much it meant to him, how Washington was where his father had been, how he’d spent his twelfth summer there. Merlin had wanted to go to Law School, and it had had to be in Washington._  
 _“I don’t know. Changed my mind, I guess.” Merlin had shrugged. “Let it go, Arthur.”_  
 _“But Merlin- you’ve always wanted to go.” Arthur had protested._  
 _“And now I don’t.” Merlin’s voice had acquired a sharp edge. “Okay?”_  
 _It hadn’t been okay, because Arthur had gone home that day, and thought about it. For as long as he’d known Merlin, the man had wanted to travel and study, and visit the goddamn Lincoln Memorial. It had been the one thing he had wanted from life, and yet- something had changed that._  
 _The answer hadn’t been too difficult, once Arthur had gone over all the variables and had reached that one thing that had changed for Merlin in those three years._  
 _Him. It had to be. He had held Merlin back._  
 _Arthur had refused to entertain the panic and the fear, and had instead focused on the guilt._  
 _His doing. His fault._  
 _“I can’t do this anymore.” The words had been out of his mouth the minute Merlin opened his door the next day. Arthur had watched Merlin’s smile fade, had watched his eyebrows arch in confusion._  
 _“Me and you- I can’t do this anymore.” Arthur had continued, almost babbling. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”_  
 _“Arthur.” Merlin had attempted to put a hand on his shoulder, but Arthur had shirked from it. “What are you talking about?”_  
 _Arthur had shook his head, had refused to let common sense kick in, had refused to even let himself believe that there could have been another way. No, he was the problem, the parasite. This is why routines had been invented- they stopped you from getting out of line, from getting too involved._  
 _“I’m done. We can’t be…us.”_  
 _“You don’t mean it.” Merlin had hissed._  
 _Arthur had hated himself, but the only way to make Merlin do anything was to make him angry, and Arthur knew him well enough to know how to manage that._  
 _“I mean it as much as your dad meant it when he left you in the first place.” He’d already regretted it, hated himself._  
 _Merlin had lunged for him, and Arthur had stepped aside. “I was wrong.” He had said. “I wasn’t running towards you. Even if I was, I shouldn’t have.”_  
 _“Fuck off.” Merlin had growled._  
 _Arthur had fucked off._  
 _The colour and chaos had faded after that._

_***_

“Fuck off.” Arthur mutters as the doorbell rings for the fifteenth time that night. He already knows who it is because he’s ignored the “Arthur Uther Pendragon, you open the goddamned door right this moment!” and “At least have the decency to tell Gwen it wasn’t her fault and you’re just naturally dense!” that Morgana has shamelessly yelled through the mail slot.  
“For God’s Sake, Arthur- open the door, or I am calling the police!” Morgana threatens, and Arthur feels compelled to roll his eyes because the drama is so characteristic of Morgana.  
Not that he’s been any less dramatic that day, and knowing Morgana, she will call the police on her brother if she has to.  
Arthur turns from his open window and walks across the living room to the main door. He unlatches it and steps aside because he knows Morgana will probably storm right in. Sure enough, that’s exactly what Morgana does.  
“What do you think you’re doing?” Morgana begins the minute she’s slammed the door shut. Arthur shrugs and walks away, back to his window.  
“I let you in, don’t expect explanations.”  
“Fine. Don’t tell me.” Morgana huffs. “At least be gracious enough to tell Gwen it wasn’t something she did- she’s been fretting over how you barging out and ruining the party was somehow her fault.”  
“It wasn’t, and I’m not important enough to ruin a party by myself.”  
Morgana’s expression softens and she stares at the back of Arthur’s head.  
“He walked out too, you know.” Arthur grunts non-committally.  
“Are you going to tell me what the deal between the two of you is?” Morgana prods.  
“There is no deal.” Arthur mumbles.  
“Oh, spare me that bullshit. A blind man could see that there was something between the two of you. Tell me what it was.”  
Arthur glares at her, but Morgana glares back in a far more supreme manner and Arthur withdraws.  
“We…dated in college.” It’s a trivialisation but he can’t admit the truth, because it hurts to much. The fact that it still hurts should say something Merlin and him, but Arthur doesn’t dwell on that.  
“You love him.” Morgana summarises. Arthur shakes his head vehemently. “No, I just wasn’t expecting him to be here, I was surprised is all.”  
“Surprised enough to run out of the place as fast as you could. That’s lame, Arthur.” Morgana’s standing next to him now, looking up at him, her green eyes alight in comprehension. “The quicker you admit it, the quicker I help you out.”  
“I’m not admitting anything. Leave it, Morgana.” Arthur sighs, leaning against the windowpane. “Just- go.”  
“You’re cute when you think that’ll work on me.” Morgana almost smiles, as she leaves his side for the kitchen. Arthur hears the sound of the electric kettle, and fifteen minutes later Morgana’s sitting in his most comfortable armchair, a cup of tea in her hand, and another one sitting invitingly upon the shelf near the window.  
They don’t talk, not for the first three hours, but Arthur knows that Morgana knows.  
Three and a half hours later, Arthur says seven words, each word disconnected from the other.  
“He. Was. Everything. I. Let. Him. Go.”  
I let myself go with him. I lost more than I knew and I was stupid, and I don’t deserve any more chances, is what he doesn’t say, but Morgana seems to read his mind anyway.  
“Step away from the window, Arthur.” She says gently.  
It’s only then that Arthur realises how close he is to leaning over the edge.  
In his mind, he’s already fallen off this plane of reason and logic.  
He wonders if attempting to regain them is worth it.  
Insanity could be a good character building exercise.  
                                                                                                                                               ***  
He stays in the next day, well after Morgana’s cleaned up the tea cups and left, and certainly well after his phone has registered twenty missed calls from work.  
Arthur Pendragon has never missed a day of work in his life.  
Correction- Arthur Pendragon had never missed a day of work in his life.  
Arthur Pendragon has also never stayed in bed past 8 a.m. Until now. he thinks as he glances at the blinking 1 and 30 on the digital clock.  
Why shouldn’t he stay in bed? It isn’t like he has the motivation to do anything else.  
Arthur’s mind wanders from work, to Merlin ( he handpicks the choicest curses for his traitor mind- curses he hasn’t uttered since, well, since Merlin.), to just how much of a fucking idiot he is.  
Morgana comes over again in the evening, and makes more tea. Arthur pretends to watch the news, so she doesn’t think he’s losing it.  
The dark haired figure in the back of his head becomes just a little bit more visible.  
                                                                                                                                               ***  
Arthur returns to work the next day, simply because his own flat is driving him insane. The office looks the same, and usually Arthur feels right at home in the building. Today, he doesn’t. He sits in his office, and stares absently at the pile of paperwork that has accumulated since the day before. Normally, he’d get right to work, but today it seems unreal, unreasonable even. He decides the façade isn’t worth it and gets to his feet.  
“I’m going for a walk.” He tells Sophia at reception. “Hold my calls.”  
Arthur may be off his game, but he’s still a creature of habit. He doesn’t step out of the building for his walk. Instead, he heads to the stairs, and loiters in the emptier lower floors.  
Then the lights go off because Jesus fucking Christ does he really need more darkness in his life?  
Arthur swears under his breath, and gropes around for a wall, a door, a switch- anything really. This is why he should step out of his office more often, he has no idea where anything is on this floor. His hand finds something-a doorknob. The door to the stairs, presumedly. Arthur turns it, but before he can walk in willingly, he’s pushed inside and the door slams shut.  
“The hell?” Arthur mutters to himself. He really should have stayed in bed.  
The question is a rhetorical one, but someone answers it anyway.  
“The number of times I’ve raised that question in the last few years.” Someone scoffs. It is dark, Arthur can’t see a thing, but he recognises that voice.  
“Mer- Merlin?” His voice catches, and Arthur masks the moment of weakness with a cough.  
“Well, at least you haven’t forgotten me.” The voice responds from somewhere in front of him.  
“I- what are you doing here?” Arthur finds himself asking.  
“You’ll have to be more specific.” Comes the reply.  
“You know where I work.” Arthur says instead.  
“There aren’t too many organisations called ‘Pendragon & Son’ in London.”  
They’re both doing it, skirting the real issue.  
“It’s dark.” Arthur says, feeling incredibly stupid the minute the words are out of his mouth.  
“Yeah, sorry. I couldn’t find the switch, so I cut a wire.”  
“You did- what?” Arthur squawks. He can almost feel Merlin rolling his eyes. “Why would you do that?”  
“Why do you think?” Merlin shoots back.  
Arthur doesn’t tell him why he thinks Merlin would resort to vandalism.  
“Your receptionist wouldn’t let me in, so I had to use the fire escape. Must have miscalculated the floor I was supposed to be on.” Even in the current situation, Merlin sounds incredibly pleased with himself. “Just my luck that you walked in when you did.”  
“Still doesn’t explain why you had to damage my electrical circuit.” Arthur mumbles.  
“I didn’t want you to bolt again.” Merlin says simply. There’s the sound of shuffling feet, and a moment later Merlin speaks again. “It’s going to take them a while, so you should probably sit down.”  
Arthur hesitates, and Merlin must sense it because he continues. “You’re not leaving until I say so- locked the door for good measure.”  
“You’re crazy.” Arthur shakes his head as he takes Merlin’s advice and sits on the floor.  
“Yeah,well. Some things never change. Crazy people get things done, though. It’s people like you- slaves to routine, that are the problem.”  
It’s a jab at Arthur, one he’s heard before, one he’s disagreed with. Today, he sees Merlin’s point.  
“Sorry.”  
“For which part? “ Merlin asks.  
Arthur’s eyes are adjusting to the dark, and he can make out Merlin’s silhouette, leaning against the wall opposite him. The silhouette tilts its head towards him, and Arthur assumes Merlin is waiting for a response.  
“All of it.” Arthur admits. “I’ve treated you unfairly, Merlin. I’m sorry.”  
Merlin scoffs. “It’s not me you’ve been unfair towards, Arthur. It’s you.”  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Arthur says dismissively.  
“C’mon. I admit you’ve been an idiot, and that you were an arse to me about Washington and my dad but-” he holds up a hand just as Arthur is about to apologise ( how did he know, Arthur wonders) “- more than that, you’ve been an idiot to yourself.  
“I admit I was pissed after what you said about my father, pissed enough to not use my head even. But I figured it out, eventually. You’d never say things like that, not unless you were on some unreal self-sacrificing mission- let me finish.” He warns, just as Arthur begins to protest. Arthur checks himself and Merlin continues.  
“You pissed me off last night, too. I didn’t know you were going to be there, but it would have been nice for you to not leave, because I was the one who got asked all the questions, and goddammit Arthur, do you know how difficult it is to brush off Gwen without hurting her feelings?”  
“Sorry.” Arthur says for the second time.  
“I’ll let her know you are.” Says the silhouette.  
There’s a minute of thoughtful silence. Arthur counts the seconds in his head. Merlin speaks again just as he’s counting the sixty-first second.  
“Were you really running away from me?” The voice is small, smaller than he’d have expected from Merlin.  
Arthur shakes his head. “Never. It was always towards you, I just didn’t know if I should anymore.”  
Merlin hmmms in understanding.  
“I didn’t want to leave you for Washington.” He admits. “ But when you didn’t want me anymore, it was all I had to hold on to.”  
“I- I wanted you, Merlin. I’ve always wanted you.” Arthur shivers, because it’s chilling to hear that Merlin could even think that. “But I didn’t want to hold you back. Not then, never.”  
“You prat.” Merlin’s words are whispered. “You weren’t holding me back.” And then “ I hated D.C. “  
Arthur smiles in spite of himself.  
“I hated it because you weren’t there, and also well, frankly, I was surrounded by idiots.”  
They lapse into silence.  
“I’m sorry.” Arthur attempts for a third time. “I’m not good enough.”  
He is met by an exasperated sigh. “Arthur.” Merlin’s voice is slow and soft, like he’s explaining something to a child. “What did I tell you about my expectations from you?”  
“You said you didn’t expect anything.” Arthur responds instantly, because of course he remembers. That night’s etched into his mind for eternity.  
“That still holds true. I love you, you prat. I still love you.”  
There it is- that little statement, that assurance, the hope that Merlin still loves him, as much as he loves Merlin.  
Arthur can’t help the tears that form, nor can he help the suppressed ‘God,no.’ that escapes his lips. It’s like a watershed, like someone’s uncorked a bottle of bubbly, and allowed the contents to rebel and overflow in an angry flood.  
He hasn’t been okay. He still isn’t okay.  
He doesn’t hear the sound as Merlin crawls over to where he is. One minute, Arthur’s staring at the ceiling, fists clenched, the next moment there are two arms holding him, and Merlin is speaking into his ear.  
“Arthur.Arthur.” Merlin’s embrace tightens. “I’m here. I’m right here. Shh.”  
Arthur looks up at him, up at the same familiar features, and it’s almost like that first night in the dim computer lab.  
He’s reached. He can stop running, because he’s reached his destination.  
“I love you.”  
“I know.” Merlin affirms.  
They sit like that until the lights come back on, until they can see each other in the light, until it’s too much for either of them, until kissing each other, frantically and against the wall is the only logical option, really.  
“This time, you’re asking me out.” Merlin pants as they finally break apart.  
Arthur takes up the challenge as just another character building exercise.  
                                                                                                                                  ***  
 **Two Months Later**  
Arthur takes his second week off from work, and disregards the fact that it is 10 a.m. and that he shouldn’t really be in bed, with a half-asleep Merlin sprawled over him, that there must be other things to do, things that need doing.  
He’s sure there are, but for the time being he really doesn’t care. If Merlin can kidnap him, keep him locked in a broom cupboard, stage an intervention and make him see sense, all in the span of half an hour, then Arthur can allow Merlin the luxury of getting to hit Arthur in the face in his sleep.  
Life isn’t normal anymore, no- he spends 17.2 minutes stuck in traffic, only three times a week because Merlin insists Arthur take the tube, which is faster and eco-friendly. He visits Uther, or rather, Merlin visits Uther and Arthur is allowed to come along. Uther seems happy, and in turn, Arthur doesn’t take offence when Uther tells Merlin that Arthur and him are two sides of the same coin, and that he’s clearly more interesting now that he’s got Merlin.  
Arthur agrees. He’s also happier, and he really doesn’t mind Morgana’s smirks, or Gwaine’s waggling eyebrows when he first sees Arthur and Merlin together.  
“I knew I was right!” Gwaine exclaims. “Good to know you’re not the Tin Man from the Wizard of Oz, Pendragon.”  
Above all, though- Arthur doesn’t mind that he’s happier, and that he’s much more alive. He doesn’t mind that he doesn’t have to run anymore- he’s reached his destination- Merlin’s here, and he’s finally stopped wandering, stopped with the pretense, he’s come back home.


End file.
